


Raindrops blurred the rising sun

by UchihaCrow



Category: Naruto
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Everyone Needs A Hug, F/M, Friendship, Kid Konan, Kid Nagato, Kid Yahiko, Konan also needs a hug, Other, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Sort of my head canon, Yahiko needs a hug
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-03
Updated: 2020-12-03
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:59:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27856345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UchihaCrow/pseuds/UchihaCrow
Summary: A small boy stared up at the cloudy sky. Raindrops fell softly on his face, turning his bright orange hair a dull bronze. “Mama?” A woman dressed in a soft, simple robe turned from where she had been carefully tending to a small flower garden.She straightened, wiping a thin bead of sweat from her forehead. “Yes, Yahiko?” “Why does it rain?” The boy asked thoughtfully.Yahiko and Konan's backstory. (At least according to me.)
Relationships: Konan & Nagato & Yahiko, Konan/Yahiko (Naruto)
Kudos: 3





	Raindrops blurred the rising sun

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! This fic is basically my headcanon about how Yahiko became an orphan, and how he met Konan. I'll probably add Team Jiraya moments (since I love them) and Akatsuki too. It will mostly be from Yahiko's point of view, with some Konan and Nagato. It starts kind of dark and gradually gets better (hopefully). Please leave Kudos if you like it. Also, I am very open to criticism/suggestions/praise so please comment. Thanks!

A small boy stared up at the cloudy sky. Raindrops fell softly on his face, turning his bright orange hair a dull bronze. “Mama?” A woman dressed in a soft, simple robe turned from where she had been carefully tending to a small flower garden.

She straightened, wiping a thin bead of sweat from her forehead. “Yes, Yahiko?” “Why does it rain?” The boy asked thoughtfully. His mother looked at him thoughtfully, searching for the right words to explain to her five- year- old son. “Well, within a cloud, water droplets condense onto one another, causing the droplets to grow-“ “I think it’s cause the sky is sad.” Yahiko interrupted, answering his own question. “Why is the sky so sad, mama?” She smiled fondly at him. “Why don’t you tell me, since you know all the answers?” she teased. Yahiko pouted, crossing his arms. “I don’t know…” The woman decided to get into the spirit of things. Maybe one day her son would want to hear the scientific explanation. “Maybe it’s not sad… It could be tears of laughter,” she tried. Yahiko grinned, instantly brightening. “Or maybe the sky is taking a shower!” he giggled.

The thought seemed to cause a lot of amusement for the little boy. The woman laughed. “You should be taking a shower too. It’s almost dinnertime.” “Yes, mama.” Yahiko ran back to their small house. His mother followed him, shutting the door behind them.

* * *

Yahiko groggily opened his eyes. His room was pitch black. He could hear faint murmurs from downstairs. He could identify his mother’s soft lilting voice and his father’s deep rumble. Father was home! Yahiko jumped up, shedding his covers. He had been waiting for Father to come home for so long that he had fallen asleep. He quietly crept down the stairs. Yahiko knew that he wasn’t supposed to be awake at this hour. The voices in the living room gradually became clearer as the boy reached the bottom. Light filtered from the ajar living room door. He slowly peeked from behind the banister, poking his head out. 

“-War? Do you really think it will affect us here?” His mother’s hushed voice held undertones of worry. Yahiko’s father sighed, his brow furrowing. “The front lines are coming closer every day…” Yahiko’s face twisted in confusion. _War?_ It was something he had heard before, usually when his parents didn’t think he was listening.

Yahiko had never really thought about war. He had a vague idea of what it was, and he knew it was bad, but it was something far far away. There were no wars here, that Yahiko knew. So why would it hurt them here? He would have to ask his mother tomorrow, she would definitely know…

“-The villagers are getting worried, and money is getting scarce…” His father sighed again. Lately, it seemed to Yahiko that his father sighed every time he spoke. He was a big man with strong, broad shoulders. He had black, spiky hair and chocolate-brown eyes. In Yahiko’s mind, his father was a mountain. A huge unmovable mountain that rumbled with earthquake-like laughter ever so often. His mother, on the other hand, was a tree. A tree with fruits of knowledge and flowers of kindness. Yahiko knew that in looks he was the perfect mix of his parents. He had often been told so. When he looked into the mirror, he saw his father’s hazel eyes, and his mother’s brilliant, orange hair. He saw his father’s hands and his mother’s mouth.

The boy often wondered if he would have his father’s deep voice when he grew up. He certainly didn’t want his mother’s voice! 

“- I think that we should leave. It’s getting too dangerous.” “Yes, but we need time to collect our funds, and pay off any debts.” His parents' voice filtered through his thoughts. He tried to guess what his father would say if he went to greet him. Would he be angry that Yahiko was still up? Happy that Yahiko had waited for him? Yahiko knew that it was probably the latter. His father was almost never angry. But some instinct made him hesitate. Perhaps it was his parents' hushed tones, so different from how they usually spoke.

Yahiko quickly and quietly climbed back up the stairs and crept under the covers of his soft bed. He stared at the ceiling with his arms behind his head. The soft pattering of the rain was barely audible. _What exactly is war? And why are mama and father so worried?_

Yahiko smiled as he sat down for breakfast. “Father? Are you not going to the village today?” he asked hopefully. His father chuckled, ruffling Yahiko’s hair. “I will be going soon. I just didn’t want to miss your mother’s delicious breakfast.” Yahiko’s mother pursed her lips. “It won’t be up to my usual standards today. We’re out of rice.” The sigh that his father gave was so depressingly familiar that Yahiko wanted to tell him it was ok. “It’s okay mama. I am not that hungry,” he said.

Yahiko’s stomach growled contradicting his words. His mother frowned. “Ninja from Konoha have seized most of the supplies,” His father said. His mother discreetly put a hand to her lips, _not in front of Yahiko,_ she mouthed. But Yahiko had pounced eagerly on his father’s words. “Ninja? From Konoha? Who are they? What do they do? Why did they take our rice?” The flood of questions spilled endlessly from his mouth. His father crossed his arms. “You are still too young to know about these things.”

“What things? About _war_?” Yahiko demanded. Why didn’t anybody tell him anything? His father’s scowl deepened. “Where did you hear about that?” Yahiko’s mother shot her husband a warning look. “Yahiko… It’s just something you don’t have to worry about yet. That’s why parents exist. To worry about things so their children don’t have to.” She smiled kindly at him. “Now let’s see what else I can make for breakfast…”

* * *

Yahiko was playing with his wooden top when he first felt the rumble. He had been watching it spin. The top started fast, fast enough for the colours brightly painted on it to swirl into a dull white. Then it began to slow, teetering and wobbling, but still spinning. _Red, Green, Blue, Red, Green, Blue_ , and back to _Red_. The top tilted drunkenly and fell to the ground with a harsh clatter. It rolled crazily, finally coming to rest underneath the kitchen table.

Yahiko crouched down underneath it to get it, his hand closing around the top. There was a faint rumble, and Yahiko cocked his head trying to place it. His mother paused from where she had been washing the dishes. She briefly dried her hands on a small towel, listening intently. “Did you hear that Yahiko?” She called out. There it was again, though louder. The floor seemed to vibrate slightly, and the cups and plates rattled and clinked. Yahiko, who was still under the table, pressed his head against the ground, trying to hear the sound clearer.

Suddenly with a loud _BANG,_ the thick wall of their house was blown open, leaving a gaping hole. Small splinters of wood and plaster peppered Yahiko’s face, bruising it. Yahiko coughed violently, holding his arm over his face. His eyes watered as the dust settled.

A stranger rushed inside, with a girl slung over his shoulder. Bile rose in Yahiko’s throat as he saw the sickening angle the girl’s head made. The look on the man’s face was of pure horror. There was crimson liquid flowing from a cut on his face, and dripping into his eyes and beard.

Yahiko gasped as he recoiled from the man. He carefully moved backward until his back touched the cool wall. Its solidity reassured him; even though he knew that it could shatter just like the other one. 

The boy watched as the man gently set the girl’s limp body on the floor. With a lurching realization, Yahiko noticed that she had no legs. They had been blown off. The man turned to Yahiko’s mother, who had been standing in the doorway. “H-help me!” He sobbed. “My friend, she-she’s dead…” Yahiko’s mother rushed over. “Are you okay?” she asked.

Just then, what looked like a triangular knife embedded itself into the wooden floor with a dull _thunk._ Yahiko barely had enough time to notice the paper with black markings before it exploded. The flash of blinding light stung Yahiko’s eyes. He shut them tightly, curling up into a tiny ball. A sharp burst of pain blossomed on his arm. Huge chunks of wood and rock crashed over and around him. The world was filled with noise. Yahiko’s table shuddered. He clenched his eyes tighter. It felt like it would never stop. After what seemed like an eternity, but couldn’t be more than a few seconds, there was silence, except for the rain hammering down on the wooden roof of the table above him.

It was a while before Yahiko dared to open his eyes. When he did, everything was pitch black.

A jolt of panic bubbled up inside him. _Had he gone blind?_ Breathlessly feeling the debris which enclosed him, he winced as a sharp splinter of wood tore open the palm of his hand. To Yahiko’s relief, when he carefully held it near his face, he could see the faint outline of his fingers. Looking around he spotted a gap in the rubble where faint light filtered through. Yahiko desperately tore at the hole widening it. The air was humid and suffocating, he didn’t think he could last much longer. Yahiko gritted his teeth as his nail throbbed. Finally, he managed to push aside a large chunk of plaster that blocked his path, creating a small opening.

The sharp edges scraped painfully against his sides as he squeezed out of the hole. The boy hardly noticed as he desperately searched for his mother’s bright hair. Scrambling onto a tall piece of rubble, Yahiko looked around, hardly believing what he was seeing. It was impossible, that their kitchen, their living room, Yahiko’s own room had been reduced to _this._ There was _nothing_ left. Their house was gone.

Still, Yahiko looked for his mother, ignoring the little voice inside him that whispered that she was _gone_ , just like their home. ‘She was close to me’, he argued, ‘she probably just got trapped as I did.’ ‘Or she’s dead’, the voice said quietly. ‘Just like the woman with no legs.’ Yahiko refused to allow himself to think that. His mother was so _alive_. There was just no way she was gone.

There, a flash of bright blue. Yahiko ran as fast as he could, stumbling over an upturned rafter. (An upturned paper was trapped underneath; the coolest dinosaur Yahiko had ever drawn before, the one with spikes all down his back and big sharp teeth) However as Yahiko approached where he had seen the colour, he realized disappointedly that this was not his mother. The figure trapped under the huge chunk of rubble was the man that had carried the dead girl.

“…Hey.” The man’s voice was hardly a whisper as he slowly, painfully turned his head to one side. His green eyes stared fixedly at Yahiko’s hazel ones. Yahiko flinched, quickly taking a step backwards. It was impossible that the man still be alive. There was just no _way…_ The strangers’ lower body was completely crushed. The small bit of leg that poked out from underneath debris was unrecognizable. A mess of red and white – Yahiko heaved as he realized it was bone, sticking up from what used to be a leg. He wiped his mouth, spitting out the sour tang of vomit. 

“I’m sorry kid…” The man said, without taking his eyes off Yahiko. “…I… never meant to involve any civilians… _They_ still got me anyway…” He sputtered, blood trickling out of his mouth. Yahiko realized the man was laughing. “…I thought they would hesitate to kill civilians… How wrong I was…” Yahiko finally drew enough courage to ask timidly “Who are “civilians”?” The man said nothing, still staring with that eerily intent gaze. “Did you see my mother?” Yahiko asked. The man made no sound. Yahiko moved closer to him. “You must have!” he said angrily. “She was right… _beside_ you!” Yahiko’s voice cracked. His fists clenched, nails digging into his skin. Tears started to run down his face. There was still no answer. The man was absolutely still. Too still. Through a blur of tears, Yahiko realized that the man’s chest was not moving, that he could not hear the strained gasps that had been the man’s breathing. Yahiko turned away, desperately wiping his eyes, searching for someone, _anyone_.

“Mama!” He shouted, listening with all his might for any response. “Mama!!” He yelled again. He stumbled, and when he put his hands out to stop his fall, gravel painfully embedded itself in them. Tears flowed hot and fast, running down the boy’s cheeks onto the already wet floor. As Yahiko raised his head he caught sight of a thick smear of crimson blood, pooling from beneath a huge pile of ruins. Yahiko climbed over it and took in the sight on the other side. He sobbed, falling to his knees beside a body. His mother lay on the ground, eyes wide, her face deathly pale. Her bright orange hair spilled over her face like a shroud. Blood pooled from a stomach wound, and even Yahiko could tell that this was not from the collapse of the house or the explosion.

A stained sword glimmered coldly beside her. Yahiko closed his eyes and wept, unable to look at his mother’s still face. The rain pounded down relentlessly, drenching everything in its path with cold, sweet water. Yahiko’s salty tears seemed to disappear, eclipsed in this unquenchable torrent that wept for him.

“Mama…” His voice was hoarse, and his throat hurt. “P-please…”(Her eyes stared blankly, unrecognizing, _lifelessly_ at him) “…Don’t… (It was too late…) “Die…”

The broken boy sobbed in the unstoppable rain. 


End file.
